


Just a Battery for Hire with a Guitar Fire

by tonystxnks



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drug Use Mentions, F/M, Good Music, M/M, Rock 'n Roll, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-12
Updated: 2015-10-24
Packaged: 2018-04-26 00:25:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4982707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tonystxnks/pseuds/tonystxnks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The lights were still muted in the theater, and the guards were walking the drunken super fans out of the front doors, so Steve had a perfect shot to jump over. </p>
<p>And he took it.</p>
<p>Two things were worth breaking the rules for in Steve Roger's mind. </p>
<p>And those things were his mother, and billionaire, playboy, rock sensation Tony Stark.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! So this is my first stony story, and I've had this idea in my head for a while now, so I thought I would give it a go! Let me know in the comments how you like it!
> 
> I've always had a thing for diva/rocker!Tony too 
> 
> But who doesn't?

_“And now, everyone’s favorite tune of the summer by the sensational upcoming band, The Iron Legion’s, Fire Me up Tonight!”_

Steve’s breath caught in his throat. His drawing hand frozen as the disembodied voice of the lead singer came through his ‘old as shit’ radio (as Clint referred to it numerous times) in his bedroom. It never seized to amaze even him no matter how many times he listened to that same song, by that same band, _by that same singer_ , those same goose-bumps popped up all over his body. 

The Iron Legions were more than just any old band to Steve. 

To him, they were something truly unique. A band like that only came once in a person’s life, if they were lucky. 

Thankfully, Steve was one of the lucky ones. 

His blue eyes traveled from the radio sitting on his bed, to one (of many) posters that lined his walls. They ranged from Van Halen, Queen, The Stones, and Pat Benetar, to even some Joan Jett and Bowie sprinkled in there, among many others. There was hardly any wall space being shown. 

But 80% of his room was covered with his favorite band, and his favorite singer and all around favorite person: 

The Iron Legions and their lead singer and all around perfect musician, Tony Stark. 

He was like an anomaly to Steve, like an angel of music brought down from heaven to appease all us lowly people. But of course he would never utter that sentence out-loud ever again, the last time he did that, Sam almost called the psychiatric ward on him. 

His look, his style, his _voice_ , was everything Steve looked for in music these days. It was 1983, and Steve always yearned for the old days of the early 70s rock n’ roll. But the Iron Legions were bringing that sound back, twisted with their own unique tracks. 

“Steve darling? Could you turn that down please? I’m trying to talk to your uncle on the phone!” 

One of the things Steve hated about technology was the new ‘phones’ they were coming out with. This year, they came out with a 1983 Motorola DynaTAC, a humongous piece of plastic that somehow delivered the other person’s voice to your ear if you’re listening. 

Steve wasn’t hip with all the new things when it came to that. But his uncle actually works for one of those companies, living in New York City, and gave both him and his mother a deal on two of those phones (one for him, to his frustration). 

So now it just set on its charger in the corner of the room, him never using it. 

“But Dave, I can’t stand that new music!” his mother’s voice echoed down the hall. 

The blond shook his head, smiling at the metal image of his uncle speaking from the other line, “Come on, Sarah! Let the boy listen to the good stuff! He ain’t hurting nobody!” 

His oldest memories were of him and his late father’s brother, sitting together beside the record player, listening to some Led Zeppelin when he would come visit. 

His mother, however kindhearted and understanding she was, never understood his love of the music of the 80s, her being more attracted to the sounds of the 40s. 

She just couldn’t get past the makeup, the extravagance of it all, to Steve’s dismay at first; and not to mention the ‘god-awful hair that reached the sky, and the blow out your ear drums bass sounds’, in her own words, which always got a chuckle from her son. 

Especially when she would pester him to get his ears checked, for fear of him accidentally breaking his own ear drums from the volume levels that came from his own bedroom at times. 

And Steve could appreciate her concern, for the most part. He loved the oldies as well, being brought up with it all his life, but somehow, the sound of the rock n’ roll scene stuck with him over the years. 

But honestly, all Steve wanted was one ticket to see his favorite band in concert. He would probably sell his soul for one. Or something close to that. But to his knowledge, the band was fairly new—not to the blond, who owned both their ep album’s from 4 years ago, and their newest one that was just now gaining traction in popularity. 

But they were new in the sense of popularity as a whole, in the music scene. 

As Steve knew they would. 

In that moment, the lead singer on the radio hit an especially high note which tore Steve from his disparaging thoughts of not being able to see his favorite band live. His eyes drifted dreamily to one of the posters close to him, imagining just how they (he) looked in person… 

That voice was just something that Steve could listen to on repeat, and never ever get sick of it. The way the singer masterfully could change from a G to a high A in seconds flat was enough for those pesky goose-bumps to show up again. 

But the blond was brought back to life seconds later as the song ended and the announcer’s voice came on once again. 

_“You folks better get your tickets soon! Only a few left for The Iron Legions’ first show here in San Diego this weekend! It starts their nationwide tour across the land of the free, so get your ticket today!”_

Steve almost fell off his bed, the drawing of a familiar singer’s face off onto the ground, as his legs shook in his attempt to stand up. 

He knew one thing was for certain in that moment— 

—he was going to see The Iron Legions, no matter what the cost. 

_Is selling a soul a proper payment for a concert ticket I wonder?_


	2. gotta get back to the real nitty gritty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve pouts and rolls his eyes abundantly. Sam whines. Clint laughs at his ridiculous friends.

Apparently, selling one’s soul isn’t an option in terms of buying a concert ticket.

Steve called the ticket company minutes later after hearing that his all time favorite band was coming within an hours drive of him; and found out only money transactions were accepted. 

Unfortunately, that was one thing he didn’t have much of at the moment. 

That month, Steve spent all the money he earned from his paycheck at the deli to help his mom with the rent. She missed a whole week of work from being sick, which caused them to be lacking in income for the month. 

But, that was before he knew the gods of all things music were having a concert an hour away from him.

“Man! You are ridiculous, especially if you think your taste in music is actually _good_.”

Steve only stared blankly at his friend, his mouth full of cheese pizza. “’Scuse you? At least I don’t spend all my time listening to the Salty River Group.”

“The Sugar Hill Gang!?!” The blonds’ friend leaned back in his chair, cackling at Steve’s hilariously innocent mistake. “How many times do I have to tell you, man?!”

Rolling his eyes with a huff, Steve simply finished his food with no other comment. Too deep in his depressing thoughts of his favorite band playing only one hour away from him, while he himself would be stuck in LA with no means of getting out.

A fry hit him square in the face after a few silent minutes, and his other friend, Clint was staring at him with a slightly bemused expression.

“Cheer up, Cap!” He used Steve’s nickname they have had for him ever since they could remember, which brought a slight smile to the blond's face. 

"Things will be okay, even if you won’t get the chance to suck Tony Stark’s cock Saturday night.”

Steve’s whole body flinched as he took the worst possible time to take a gulp of his shake. The liquid came back up and landing all over the table in between the three. 

“Aw man! I was still eatin’ too!” Sam moaned and elbowed Clint in the side, which the other blond just died laughing, as Steve wiped away his mess from the table.

“I mean, have you _seen_ Steve’s bedroom?! He has the man’s face on every square inch of wall space!” Clint made the universal sign of jerking off with his hands, and it was Steve’s turn to catapult a French fry at his face. 

Sam groaned into one of his hands, squeezing his eyes shut. “ _Yes_ , ugh please stop bringing it up. You know I have been over to his house just as much as you have.”

Steve composed himself after a few more seconds, and glared at his ridiculous friend’s accusation.

“Not _every_ section of wall space…” Steve muttered to the table—feeling his cheeks heat up, and immediately hating himself for it. 

So what if he had a little crush on the lead singer of his favorite band? It was completely normal. A lot of people did.

Sam sighed from across the table, and kicked the man’s shin lightly. “Look man, things are gonna look up. How about me, you, and bird brain here go out Saturday night? I’ll pay for drinks and everything! I hear Mr. J’s is having karaoke night too, you can sing all your sorrows away.”

_Or you could buy me a ticket to the concert_ Steve thought miserably, but nodded solemnly. “Sound’s oka—“

“Actually, me and Steve have plans,” Clint replied bluntly for his blond friend, who only looked up across the table curiously.

Sam only stared blankly at the other. “What the hell? You guys gonna hang out _without_ me?--Ouch! Damn it!” 

Clint kicked the complaining man under the booth, much to the confusion of the blond sitting across from the two quarrelling men.

Clint gave Sam a look, and that was all it took for the man to nod in minimum understanding but didn’t argue further. 

“Alright, well that would probably be for the best anyway; I have about 10 pounds of school work to do this weekend.”

“But, you never do your homework until last minute.” Steve replied bluntly, sipping from his vanilla milkshake and eyeing his two friends with slightly narrowed eyes. 

“Well, Professor Kang hates me! And decided to shower me with paper after paper. All due Monday.” The man lied casually, in which Clint nodded in affirmation.

“Your classes are on Tuesdays and Thursdays.”

The archer rolled his eyes at Steve’s attention to detail, and Sam laughed lightly at his own terrible lying skills. 

However, he wasn’t about to let Steve win, not this time.

Even though he had no idea what Clint was planning. He still wanted to play the part.

“It’s a group assignment. He’s making it due a day early.”

That seemed to appease the other man, to Sam’s apparent relief. Even though he had no idea what Clint was up to, probably some stupid get-together with his archer’s group on campus, and if that’s the case, Sam is completely okay with being left out of the loop.

Steve obviously didn’t buy it, but couldn’t put much thought into it. He hadn’t put much thought into anything that didn’t involve the fact that the decade’s most up-and-coming band was coming to San Diego this weekend. 

And he wasn’t going to be there.

-

Sitting in the driver’s seat of his old ’69 Studebaker, something Steve had been immensely proud of at the time of buying it; he waited for his friend outside the Psychology building on the college campus. 

Right as he saw the outline of Barton walking out the door, he turned up the volume of his newest Iron Legions tape he received two weeks ago on his birthday from his mother. He had already almost worn out the poor thing.

He could see the epic eye-roll even from behind his friend’s sunglasses as he climbed in the car from the music choice, even though you would think he would be used to it by now.

Clint was one to never hide his true feelings on how he felt about Steve’s favorite tunes, and especially his vintage eight track player.

“How many times do I have to tell you about those new Bose stereo systems they just came out with! It’s so much better quality than your piece of shit eight track.”

It was Steve’s turn to roll his eyes. He turned up the volume on the song to drown out his friend’s moaning and groaning, and drove away before Clint could even get settled in his seat.

It’s what he deserved for talking smack about his eight track. 

When the guitar riffs from the one of the band's newest songs slowed to a stop, Steve turned the volume down, “So are you going to tell me what sort of plans you have for tomorrow?”

The one thing about Steve was that sometimes he may seem naïve, but he wasn’t anywhere near ignorant. He knew when his friend was up to something.

Clint hummed to himself, smirking a bit, “Let's just say your Saturday is going to be a whole lot more exciting than working at the damn deli.”

Furrowing his brows, Steve stopped at the light, and turned to look at his friend. “I don’t work at the deli on Saturday’s for one. And two, tell me what you’re planning because I really don’t want to go to your archer’s practice again. No offense, but last time I think one of those guys almost shot me with an arrow.”

“No, no, not that! But, to that guy’s defense, we had just smoked pot before the practice, so…”

Steve sighed, pressing on the accelerator, and turning left onto both his and Clint’s street as the light changed.

“Then, what is it? And why can’t Sam come?”

Clint waited until Steve’s car slowed to a stop in front of his house, and opened the door. Unlocking it himself before Steve could stop him. “Just pick me up tomorrow at 4. You’ll thank me later.”

Before Steve could even formulate a reply, his friend jogged up to his house, and left him alone to guess what exactly Clint had in store for him tomorrow night.

Knowing Barton, it could range from barging into a frat party to trying to persuade Steve to smoke with him and his friends for the umpteenth time, which of course Steve will kindly deny. 

The velvet voice coming from his stereo stirred Steve’s attention back to the real world. Driving back to his own home, and drowned in the sorrows of the fact that he wasn’t going to be able to hear that voice in person. 

Knowing that, he opted to turn up his eight track, and imagined himself at the concert. Staring up at the legendary band, instead of staring at the posters in his room like the pitiful fan he was.

He would survive. He would have to.

There was always a next time, right? 


	3. i ain't too old to try

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you guys think in the comments! 

Steve slid on his favorite tee shirt of the Iron Legions after his shower Saturday afternoon, just to mourn the fact that he wasn’t going to be able to see his music idol in the flesh that same day.

The best part about the tee? The fact that the lead singer’s face is centered right on top of where Steve’s heart is located, staring into anyone’s soul who was looking at it.  


He had already prepped himself for his friend’s merciless teasing for wearing it. It always never failed.

He had already explained to his mother that he was going to hang out with Clint, and was probably going to be spending the weekend over at his house, in which she only told him to be safe and have fun.

And she also made him take that damn phone of his, to his dismay. He took his backpack, stuffed the phone, along with a few tapes, and a few sets of extra clothes.

One of the many things Steve loved about his mom, that she always wanted to see her son happy and healthy, and trusted him to make good decisions, which he always did. Ever since his father passed, she worked hard to make Steve have the best life possible, even though it was hard sometimes when she had to pick up extra shifts at the hospital. 

“Be safe Steve, and don’t you get into any trouble now.” Smiling brightly up at her son as she said this, knowing full well her son had no plans of causing any sort of ruckus, and knew it would be Clint more likely causing any trouble between them.

Steve had only smiled in response, and hugged his mom, and gave her the reassurance she didn’t even need because of the trust they shared with each other.

After checking himself in the mirror and ran a hand a few times through his hair, he sighed miserably, and at no way excited for the night Clint had planned; he made his way down the road towards his friend’s house.

He had told Steve previously to just bring himself to his house and nothing else, and that his mom was going to drop them both off—at wherever they were going.

Clint still wouldn’t disclose the plan fully, to Steve’s utter annoyance.

“So, when are you going to explain what exactly is going to happen tonight?” The blond asked, and he didn’t miss the quirk of Mrs. Barton’s lips at his inquiry.

“How many times to I have to say that it’s a surprise?” His friend replied, reaching up and turning up the volume on the radio in his mother’s car. 

Steve had to hold back his sigh of complete and utter desolation when he realized it was once again Tony Stark’s heavenly voice, making its way to Steve’s broken heart.

_I wonder what he smells like…_

He mused about the possible different scents of his crush as the car ride continued longer than the blond expected it to, Clint making small talk and him nodding occasionally to show he was somewhat paying attention. 

He hadn’t even noticed when Clint changed the station to some crappy pop stuff he liked to listen to. 

After what seemed like an eternity however, the car slowed to a stop right beside a four-way intersection, and that’s when Steve realized he didn’t recognize the place they were at anymore. He did know one thing however, they weren’t in LA anymore.

And hadn’t even bothered to look out the window of the car to check what direction they left from to begin with, too busy being depressed.

“You guys better hurry up and get out, I’m probably not allowed to stop right here—”

Right on cue, several cars honked behind Mrs. Barton’s car, and Steve hurriedly made his way out, grabbing his backpack and thanking the woman profusely for the ride. 

Steve looked around, surprise masking his features at the traffic lining the unfamiliar streets.

Traffic, he was used to, being from LA and all…

But this city was something completely new to him. Then again most were, he wasn’t one to venture out of his hometown.

“Uh, care to explain where we are now, bird brain?”

Clint walked around towards the side walk where Steve was causally standing, flicking off a car as they angrily honked at him for walking in front of them.

“We’re almost there! Geez, Rogers, just trust me for once. This will be worth it.” Steve didn’t appreciate that, nor the fact that Clint’s expression was bursting at the seams full of excitement. He was never good at hiding things, especially from him.

But before Steve could wrangle him into telling him more, the shorter man was pulling him in a different direction, down the sidewalk further. “Come on! We gotta get there semi-early if we want to get a good view!”

 _Good view?_ “This better not be one of your stupid bird watching conventions again, Clint, I swear to-“

Shaking his head profusely, Clint began running down the street, turning a quick corner and Steve didn’t have to run very fast to catch up with his shorter friend. 

They passed a few blocks, and turned another corner before Clint stopped abruptly, Steve almost running right into him from behind. 

He looked down to his friend, who had one of the biggest shit eating grins on his face, and Steve’s confusion only sky-rocketed. “What?! I don’t understand-“

Steve glanced back up and saw a line of people waiting for, something? Like for tickets for some sort of show. His blue eyes gazed further along and saw trees lining some sort of stage? He couldn’t really tell, considering how far away they were. 

When the blond looked back down to his best friend with the same confused expression as before, Clint was ready to smack his own face in frustration before he pulled out something that had been burning a hole in his pocket all week.

“Here you go man, wipe that frown off that pretty face of yours, and get your throat ready to suck some cock.”

Steve opened his mouth to complain about the vulgar-ness of that statement, as he peered down at the piece of paper Clint forcibly stuck in his large hand, giving it a once over. 

“Seven o’clock, San Diego, Open Air Theater, The—” His breath caught in his throat, not being able to formulate anymore words as his eyes scanned the small piece of paper in his hand, his mouth gone completely dry. 

Clint had given him a ticket, a real, actual to god ticket with The Iron Legion’s name typed on it. 

Maybe it was a misprint? This had to be some sick joke, but his friend wasn’t that cruel, was he?

Swallowing back the hidden excitement that threatened to boil over, Steve glanced back up at his friend when he remembered how to move, let alone breath again. 

“Cl-Clint, is this—are we really--?”

“Yes! I got you and me both tickets to see this shitting band! Now are you actually going to act elated or do I need to seriously send you to the hospital, because the color of your skin was kinda freaking me out man.”

A smile slowly spread onto the taller man’s face in slow realization, the hand gripping the ticket suddenly too tight and relaxed it.

“I-I don’t know what to say…thank you, Clint. This is…thank you!” Strong arms wrapped around the shorter man who bit back a squawk of surprise, and allowed his friend the hug just this once, before wiggling his way out after a few seconds. 

“Yeah yeah, you owe me big! Remember that!” Steve’s eyes were looking everywhere, from the ticket that he was still having trouble believing was actually real, to the line of fans right outside the gates to the stadium. It was all like a dream to him, a dream he never wanted to wake up from.

He hadn’t even noticed Clint still going on about how he _owed_ him, he was too busy floating on air, making his way to the line of people. As he got closer, with Clint right behind him, he noticed most of the people in the lineup were girls, around Steve’s age and some older and younger. 

There were also men standing in line as well, to the blond’s quiet relief, and many of the fans had shirts on that resembled Steve’s own. Many of them also had Tony Stark’s beautiful face plastered on them, while a few others had the other members, and some were even decked in the 9s for the show.

Sweat broke out all over Steve’s body at the thought that in a few hours he was actually going to see his idol in the flesh, his heart beating at an alarming rate. He blamed the heat, and not Tony Stark’s mesmerizing vocal cords that always seemed to send his senses spiraling into a tail-spin. 

His hands shook as he glanced down as his golden ticket once again, still in disbelief that the words ‘The Iron Legions’ were written there in silver letters. Silently, he wondered where the seats were located, and saw the letters ‘CCC’ written in light blue, even though he had no idea what that meant.

Clint nudged his side, and Steve looked towards him and saw him smiling triumphantly up at him. “Consider this your late birthday and early Christmas present. And early everything else present.”

“Thank you so much, you have no _idea_ what this-“ Steve began to say, when the ticket was gone out of his hands just like that, his eyes stormy in response to losing his lifeline in that moment, “Hey! That’s mine!—”

The uber fan standing in front of him, the one who stole his ticket, was staring at it, wide eyed and open mouthed. Steve was pretty sure she was trembling, which would have been worrying to him if she hadn’t had his ticket in her scrubby paws. 

“Maria! He-he—“ the poor girl looked as though she was going to faint, and her brunette friend (Steve assumed was Maria, but not particularly caring) took the ticket from her, her own eyes going just as wide before looking at Steve, a hard look masking her face this time.

“Floor seats, lucky bastard.” She muttered crossly, shoving the ticket back at Steve, before turning on her ridiculous high heels and strutting after her friend, who might have been crying. No those were definite tears.  


As the ticket was returned safely, albeit a little wrinkled to the blond, he safely smuggled it in his back pocket of his pants, before the actual realization hit him.

“Floor—floor—”

“Use your words, Stevie.”

Steve stuttered a few more times, his eyes moving back and forth from the ticket Clint was holding to his friend’s halfway amused and annoyed expression. “Wow…how?!”

Clint’s expression softened for a half second, before picking at one of his nails nonchalantly, “I have my secrets. Stop asking so many questions and enjoy the rest of the day, yeah?”

And at that, Steve had nothing to say, but nodded numbly, his heart bursting at the seams with the knowledge that he was going to see his idol, up close and personal, in mere hours.

He only could hope he could survive until then.  



	4. number one with a bullet, i'm a power pack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Concert time! I feel like I can't write these type of scenes very well at all but I hope it decent enough anyway!

Nothing could tarnish Steve’s mood. _Nothing_.  


Not even Clint complaining dramatically about the so called "ridiculous" fashion choices around them, including Steve’s own.  


“I just don’t get it man. The whole Stevie Tyler look? With the scarf and the ridiculous hats? The hair band craze really just goes over my head. But I did this for _/you_ Stevie. So you better enjoy this time of your life. But seriously, do people not consider the weather when planning this shit, it’s so fucking hot!”  


Steve hummed in reply, and didn’t bother to correct the name _Steven_ Tyler. He was just too over the moon to even care.  


“And what’s up with the Jane Fonda inspired work out wear anyways? I’ve never gotten that. I mean, hey, don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind looking at them, it really creates some nice lines, you know what I’m sayin’? But it’s still dumb looking.”  


Nodding, and not getting a word of what the man was babbling on about, all Steve could really concentrate on was the floor level ticket burning a hole in his pocket as they still stood there, waiting for someone to open the damn gates and let them in the stadium.  


What only seemed like hours later of Clint complaining about how much he hates the 80's pop culture, a man came out to take the stubs off of everyone’s tickets, before allowing them inside.  


Clint began pushing through the rung of people, and stood up on his tip toes to whisper in his friend’s ear.  


“When they open the gates, be prepared to run.”  


Steve nodded once in understanding, mission accepted. He had never been to a concert before in his life, so this was all brand new to him, so he was just following his friend's lead.  


But he couldn’t help but to think it was strange since they _did_ have front row tickets that they had to run to get to _their_ spots. But in his peripheral vision he saw the groups of girls from earlier, the Maria and her other blonde friend plotting away, and something clicked in the other blond.  


They would have to beat them and everyone else from taking the most coveted spot. Which was rightfully _theirs_.  


That lit a new fire under the blonds ass, as the gates finally swung open by some bouncers that were wearing shirts with the band’s emblem on them, but Steve had no time to admire that, he was on a mission.  


At the first chance he got, Steve ran like his life depended on it, not intentionally leaving his best friend in the dust.  


He was sure he was going to hear about that at some point later.  


Leaping over a few of the signs that were knocked over by other crazed fans in their own hurry to get that perfect spot, but Steve was of course faster. 

He thanked his long legs and the one year of football he forced himself through sophomore year. 

He bounded down the stairs and grabbed onto the barricade that separated the fans from the royalty that would be on stage later that evening.  


His hands grabbed onto the pole as if his life depended on it, which in a way it did. The way his heart was erratically beating in his chest, he wasn’t so sure he was going to survive the rest of the night.  


“You asshole! God damn it…I didn’t think I would—make it!” Clint heaved in a breath, as he forced his way up to Steve, pissing off a few super fans on his way.  


“Maybe you need to learn how to keep up with the best of them.”

The other man guffawed at the remark, wiping his eyes a little. “Oh man, I’m so glad I got these tickets—oomph!”  


Both the two men were pushed against the metal barricade uncomfortably, their movements stalled from the fans behind them, trapping them with hardly any elbow room. Steve grimaced. He had never been to a concert in his life, so he wasn’t aware of all the unwanted bodily contact that came with the whole package.  


Clint scooted a bit closer to his friend though, and patted his arm encouragingly. “Yeah, you might be bruised up a little at these things, but it’s all worth it when the band comes out to play.”  


Nodding and smiling in acceptance, Steve looked back up at the stage; “Front row, center stage, at an Iron Legion’s concert, how lucky could a fella get anyhow?”  


-  


Another good hour later, the lights dimmed, and some roadies from the opening act started setting the stage for them, a band Steve had never heard of in his life.  


And quite frankly he didn’t give one single shit about them.  


When they started playing, Steve sighed in sad acceptance that they were going to suck, and he would have to listen to this monstrosity of musical talent until the real deal came up.  


Which that tidbit of knowledge, it helped Steve cope through the terrible opening act, and thankfully sooner rather than later it was all over with, and the bouncers and roadies from earlier were back, the same one’s with the helmet emblem on their shirts, the same emblem that is on the Iron Legions album.  


Steve sucked in a few breathes in preparation, knowing he had his inhaler if things got _too_ out of hand. His hands were sweaty, clenched too tightly around the metal barricade, and Clint noticed his friend’s mini panic attack and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Earth to Steve?”  


The blond turned his head and forced a small smile on his face for his friend. “Y-yeah? S-sorry, I’m, I’m just nervous. Is that crazy?”  


Clint just smirked back, and patted his shoulder, “Hey man, breathe. Just think, Tony Stark and his glorious cock will be mere feet away from you in the next 10 or so minutes.”  


Steve coughed, and shoved him lightly, only to go back to holding onto the metal with an iron-grip, just to have something stable to grab as the roadies finally made their way off.  


And that’s when the lights went completely out, and the screams around him multiplied by 100 for a few long seconds, and then it was silence for a single beat.  


A multitude of red and gold colored lights brought the stage to life once again; Steve was mesmerized with the display of lights and colors above him. So much so that he almost missed the three band members situated in their respectable spots on stage.  


He saw a man wearing a purple shirt with ripped sleeves and a purple bandana sitting at the drums, his head hung low as if he was concentrating heavily on the beat he was creating. To Steve’s left, was the bass guitarist, smiling out and waving at the screaming crowd, his smile could be seen from space, while the lead guitarist was shredding the first chords of the song on her Fender, her face surveying the crazed crowd before them.  


She was wearing print leggings, and a silver skirt with red high heels, but pulling off the ensemble with more class than all the fans who obviously tried intimidating her outside. 

Now Steve’s eyes were flitting everywhere on stage, eyes only for one individual.  


The leader of the band, who wasn't actually _on stage_.  


His heart sunk at the realization.

The song the three band-mates had been playing low-key turned more recognizable and upbeat, as the lead guitarist moved forward to the second microphone on stage, not singing, but waiting it out it seemed.  


_There is still one more mic…_  


Suddenly, the crowd went nuts before Steve could start hemorrhaging, and his attention switched to the smoke coming up from the side of the stage, his breath hitched in his throat as the newest person made their debut on stage, appearing from the fog like some sort of rock angel.  


Tony Stark was nothing and everything like Steve imagined him to be. So perfect and magnetic, yet so vivacious and lively. He couldn’t look away, it was physically impossible, even if he wanted to. He was frozen, his eyes glued to his real life idol actually in front of him, only feet away, breathing the same air on stage, singing an ACDC cover from a few years earlier, and his hips swaying to the sound of the music as he grabbed the mic from the stand.  


The mic that was right in front of Steve on the stage.

That was probably the hardest he ever internally wished for someone's sweat to land on him.

Just one drop. That's all. 

“—knocking me out with those American thighs!”  


The sound itself was more glorious than Steve could have ever imagined, the lead singer’s voice was so otherworldly, more so than any other artist out there.  


“And you- shook me all night long!”  


He watched as the singer carried the mic like a pro, and strutted the stage like he owned it, the way he commanded the stage was unlike anything Steve had ever seen ever before.  


His brown eyes lit up as he looked down at the audience, and Steve watched him move down the stage, stripping himself of the leather jacket to reveal the revealing cut off shirt that showed his V lines, and Steve was pretty sure he had died and gone to some sort of gay rock heaven.  


Tony threw the jacket to a group of screaming women towards the back, before smirking widely and finishing off the first song with a flourish that should be illegal for any normal man to do.  


“Hello, San Diego.” The singer uttered breathlessly, and Steve had to control himself from bending the railing that he was still holding onto for dear life.  


“I hope you’re enjoying yourselves, tonight we have a great show planned for you beautiful people.”  


Blue eyes followed the singer, only him, as if he was the only one on the stage, his heartbeat quickening as Tony ran a hand through his wild, brunet locks and down over his chest, his expression playful as some of the girls on the other side of the stage were going to literally pass out if their screams indicated anything.  


But then the blond himself felt as though he might fall to the ground when the next song began playing and his idol decided to forgo his shirt (if one could even call it that), and threw it somewhere in the crowd, a stray hand running down his chest and cupped himself through his jeans to the beat of the song.  


Steve wanted to fall to his knees and thank whatever god was listening, his hands on the barricade suddenly sweaty.  


But then right as the lyrics started and Steve recognized the song as one of the more risqué ones from the band’s album, he could have sworn he saw those lively brown eyes scan the front row crowd, and stop right on Steve.  


He was 99.8% sure his heart did in fact stop in that moment.

Those brown eyes stayed on Steve for what seemed like an eternity, but in reality was only a few seconds, and the singer winked mischievously before his gaze traveled elsewhere in the audience, his voice the perfect combination of sexy and sweet and how is Steve still standing up right now? He didn't know.  


That wink would be inscribed in his brain forever.  


He hadn’t even realized he had stopped breathing until those eyes found something or someone probably more interesting to look out in the audience, and Steve huffed in breath after breath, feeling the need for his inhaler that he hadn’t needed to use for the past 2 years.  


Song after song was played, and after a while it all became a blur of lights and sounds that Steve knew he could and would never forget.  


But of course, all wonderful things had to have an ending, as the band gave one last rousing rendition of one of their most popular songs, before disappearing from sight behind the stage.  


“Hey-o Steve! What’d ya think? Pretty outta sight, huh?”  


The blond jolted slightly, looking down at his best friend with a smile still etched on his face.  


The buzz from the music still blaring in Steve’s ears was enough to satisfy him for a few seconds, but the sudden realization that his idol was actually gone, along with his favorite band left a small empty hole in his chest that he didn’t think his inhaler would be able to fix.  


“Y-yeah, it was beyond anything I could have imagined…so, thank you Clint. I mean it this was just—”  


Stronger arms wrapped around the smaller man, who only huffed in reply and wriggled out of the touch. “Yeah yeah, don’t come on too strong with all that man love. Save it for _Tony_.”  


Steve’s heart pumped erratically in his chest at just the notion of hugging the singer, and all the images from the past 3 hours came running back through his mind.  


Sighing, the man looked around to the other star-struck and mostly drunken fans around them, all of them mostly leaving, besides the ones still screaming for the Iron Legions to take the stage again, before taking a s few steps towards the exit.  


“Right. Well Steve-O, looks like there’s only one last thing to do.”  


Steve _knew_ Clint was probably talking about getting high somewhere, and he turned around with his mouth open, a retort on his tongue, when he saw the purple pass in his friend’s hand.

It took him a few seconds for his brain to remember how to form words with his mouth.  


“Wha—how did you—?”  


“ _Oh_ it’s nothing really.” Clint’s face was bright with mischief and maybe slightly madness; as he swung the dark purple plastic pass around on its lanyard, the bright gold letter clearly showing ‘Backstage Pass’ clear as day.  


“So you can either close your mouth so you don’t catch any bugs and follow me to meet your future druggie, alcoholic husband, or you can stay there and I’ll leave you to let security throw you out later. Your choice.”  


Ignoring the brutal words his friend described the singer as, Steve finally remembered how to use his legs and quickly followed his shorter friend through the maze of fans and trash littered on the ground, back to the front of the stadium where the barricades were located.  


He had no choice but to follow him, even if he didn't, his friend was quick.

He did want this, _didn't he?_.

Clint squinted his eyes to the other side where the security men were congregated around a group of super fans, trying to tell them that they had to leave, and smirked.  


“This should be easier than I anticipated…” He lifted a foot to test the give of the barricade, as Steve nervously looked from him to the burly men still arguing with the teens.  


The group looked funnily familiar to the group the two had ran into and almost caused a fuss with before the show outside.  


“ _Clint_ , I thought you said you had a backstage pass…so why are we sneaking over the barricade instead of, oh I don’t know…finding a way backstage where we don’t get arrested?!” his voice transformed into an angry whisper, as Clint already hoisted his self over the barring with ease.  


“ _Steven_ , listen. I have _one_ pass, see? _One_. Not two. So get your ass over this barricade before I leave you in the dust.  


Steve didn't use waste his breath on him, even though it made absolutely no sense at all why he only had one pass, and expected that to be okay for them both to go backstage. 

The lights were still muted in the theater, and the guards were walking the drunken super fans out of the front doors, so Steve had a perfect shot to jump over.  


And he took it.  


Two things were worth breaking the rules for.  


And those things were his mother, and Tony Stark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think! Also, the song mentioned in the chapter was 'You Shook Me All Night Long" by ACDC.


End file.
